White Picket Fence
by shrieking minties 51
Summary: Matt's gay, and Mello's not sure how to handle it. It's a good thing Near knows magic. Twoshot. Crack, OOCness and homosexuality warnings. MattMelloMatt and onesided MelloNear.
1. Chapter 1

The Title: White Picket-Fence

_Summary: Matt's gay and Mello's not sure how to handle it. It's a good thing Near knows magic. _

_Warnings: Very OOC Mello (it's crack), homosexuality, Near being mischievous, mild swearing and adult references. _

_Cast: Matt, Mello, Near, Aizawa, Roger. Cameos from Gevanni, Hal, Matsuda, and an angry shopkeeper._

* * *

There is a day, Near has faith it will arrive, where Mello will really think of him, once, without the fire of jealousy and competition spurring him on. He will call Near and want to spend time with Near. They will make small talk over hot chocolate and kiss under the stars. They will marry and somehow have two beautiful children. Near ceases his fantasies before he envisions a white picket-fence, though.

Because that would be Weird.

Nevertheless, Near has faith this day will arrive.

It's not today, however.

Someone is calling- "It's Mello..." Halle says, hushed and ever-so-slightly concerned at the inexplicably triumphant expression on Near's face. He nods smugly and tells her to put the call through.

* * *

Young Mihael Keehl stands agitatedly on a street corner; mobile phone in hand, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and glaring fiercely at anyone who should dare look at him. He slumps in relief when his call is answered.

"Mello?"

"Near... I didn't know who else... it's Matt's...he's...he's..." Mello discovers he can't quite muster up the strength to say it- his voice cracks, and he stares into nothingness. He knows, deep down, that he shouldn't blame himself.

"Mello- are you in danger?"

"N-...He's...He's..."

"Mello..."

Mello whispers a response eventually, and his voice sounds both despairing and astonished, Mello chokes a little as the phrase falls from his lips, as though it pains him greatly, simply to utter the two words: "He's... _gay_"

It sounds suspiciously like someone is snorting in the background- and Mello is answered with a bemused "Yes... he is."

"But...?" Near knew. He knew, and had thus far done nothing to save Matt. Poor, poor, innocent Matt.

"Mello...have you taken anything- do I need to call an ambulance? Wha-"

"Oh...Oh god..." Mello gasps and clutches his rosary.

He can hear Near sigh "What's the matter?"

"I...I touched his bare flesh..."

"Are you intoxicated?"

"What if he's _infected_ me?! What do I do? Do I need to cut the limb off?!" He hears a faint sigh in the background- presumably from Near.

"Oh, no..." Near says, and it sounds as though he is reaching a decision. Which is partially true; it's his first taste of Trouble in a while, after all; and he can feel it tingling in the tips of his fingers. One can taste a gift from the gods like this in the air. And it's going to be fun.

(Gevanni is compelled to take a step back- he's never seen Near grin quite like that before )"I don't know if there's a cure, Mello." He replies at length.

Pure, unadulterated panic is what next greets him in the form of an unintelligible, strangled cry.

"But- but Near- you've had experience with... with...these people, before- what do I do?!" – Mello's voice sounds astonishingly like a thirteen year old girl's.

"Where's your rosary?"

"A- Around my neck, like always..."

"Oh... Oh, that's bad. Oh, _dear_..."

"What? _What_?!"

"Well, I mean... it's been... _infected_, too, Mello." Near explains. "I'm sorry." He adds by way of apology to the extremely hysterical choking noises on the other end of the line. "But it's alright. Do you have access to Holy Water?"

"Um..."

"And a pack of cards?"

"I could-"

"And a lock of Matt's hair? Tied to a teaspoon?"

"I- I..."

"Mello, this is essential."

"Yes. I- I can do that."

"Good- once you have all of those, you'll know what to do."

"I- wait, what?"

Near doesn't answer, and a moment later, Mello hears an ominous beeping...

He's dimly aware that there is no longer anyone on the other line- but he continues to talk for another half hour. Just in case. Eventually, a small boy asks him if he has a home, and without answering, he sets his jaw, slings his hastily snatched backpack over his shoulder, and marches to the local chapel.

The Priest has a gun. He runs out, screaming, a heartbeat later.

* * *

Promptly after leaving Mello with the meaningless and meaninglessly cryptic message; Near turns to face a silent, but hysterical Gevanni.

"Don't tell Hal." He commands in a whisper, pointing to the woman who had busied herself making coffee at the other end of the room. "She'll ruin it." Unable to speak, Gevanni splutters and nods as he wipes at the tears of mirth streaming down his face.

"Tell me what?" The blonde, with apparent super-hearing asks suspiciously, depositing a coffee at Gevanni's desk.

After a short, awkward silence: Near, entirely straight-faced, blows a raspberry.

* * *

Back on the street, Mello smiles hopefully to himself as he crams a newly-purchased Rubik's Cube into his trusty backpack. As it turns out, you can't buy Holy Water at a toy store; but he's sure this is an adequate replacement. He swings the bag over his shoulder once more, with a swish of his hair, and dons his newest pair of aviator sunglasses. The last pair weren't complementing his skin tone the way he wanted, so he shot them. With a sexy pout at his reflection in the shop window, and a little hop-skip of excitement; Mello, the, erm... anti-gay extraordinaire is on his way.

* * *

Matt doesn't often receive phone calls.

Although the bizarre phone calls have been occurring more frequently since Mello waltzed back into his sad, little life; they're usually from crazed mafia bosses, one of Mello's "bitches", or worse, telemarketers. They're usually abrupt conversations that end in Matt passing the phone to Mello with a roll of the eyes. They're usually easy to deal with, easy to understand, and not completely out-of-this-world bizarre.

More to the point: they're not usually from concerned members of the public, swearing to any God that Matt may or may not believe in that they just saw a young, blond man face-off with a gun-toting Catholic priest while brandishing a Rubik's Cube, and that they have his phone, now, because he is curled into a ball muttering something about 'screaming benders – someone called "Near"- teaspoons, Holy water, and rainbows' and thinking that maybe Matt should come and pick him up before he hurts himself.

Matt can do nothing more than sigh, and look for his keys.

He's a mild soul, Mail Jeevas; doesn't ask much of anyone, and rarely gives much back (with the exception of Mello), he lives each day as it comes, and lives them as anonymously as possible.

Except for the internet. On there, he's a fucking _star_.

Online, he can strut his stuff, pwn the competition with his powahz. Hell, Ma77's l337 hax0rz skillz R 53KuND 2 nun- lolololol- and he is, effectively, the ruler of all things ones and zeros; a cyber superhero, of sorts. Put him in the outside world, however, and he becomes the pint-sized, gay, lazy-arse, best friend of a lunatic; a lunatic who paradoxically wears impossibly tight leather and a rosary; a lunatic who, apparently, now brandishes a Rubik's Cube as a weapon.

Fortunately for Mello: Matt's blog followers will never believe this tale.

Matt rolls his eyes as he pulls up and hears the decidedly Rubik's Cube-like "thunk" against the bonnet of his car, and the decidedly Mello-like howl of rage and terror that follows.

"Calm down."

"BACK AWAY, HEATHEN!"

"Mello, just... just get in the car, okay?"

"No! I know how the virus works, Matt! I can stop it, but I mustn't come into contact with you!"

"Virus..." he repeats slowly, then began speaking as though to a distressed two year old, "Have you been smoking my _special_ cigarettes again? Mells, you know what they do to you... come on... remember what happened last time? With the tea cosy? And that phone bill that I had to pay?"

"No, I have not. But you know what I did do, Matt? I found some things- some _literary material_- and it was under your bed. And it- it- it..."

"Oh... for fuck's sa- Get in the car!"

"You'll infect me, too! Near said I had to go through the ritual to- to"

"I promise you're not infected. Look! I'm even wearing my gloves... just- just get in the car, please!" They have drawn a crowd. Matt loathes crowds. He clicks his tongue and pets the passenger's seat. "Come on, now. I'm your best... your only friend. Would I lie to you?"

"You didn't tell me about your... your... _affliction_!"

"You didn't ask. Get in the car."

Matt notices the glares of the public around them. One woman stares down her pointed nose at Mello as though he is something she stepped in. "Disgraceful behaviour" she declares with a derisive snort.

Matt raises his eyebrows and answers brightly "Oh, I'm sorry. I'll just slit his throat." To which she can find no response.

Tentatively, Mello glances around him at the growing numbers of people, and slides into the back seat. He presses himself against the leather, as far away as physically possible from Matt. Matt rolls his eyes as he notices Mello trying to breathe out the window, and throws a U-turn.

* * *

"So does it hurt?" Mello breathes when they enter the apartment.

"Does what hurt?"

"You know... being Turned"

"What?"

"When you become...what you are..."

"And what is that?"

"..."

Matt (who is gay) takes this opportunity to breathe down Mello's neck eerily; "Say it."

Mello shudders and frowns, turning to look (gay) Matt straight in the (gay) eye. Determined to see the (gay) man within the (gay) Beast, the V-... Wait... "Gay!"

"Are you afraid?"**[1]**

"NO! Be serious!"

"How?! How can I be serious when you're being so irrational?!" He giggles and returns to his well-established arse-groove in the couch, and his PlayStation. He burps loudly and pets the seat next to him with a satisfied smile, inviting Mello to sit. Wringing his hands awkwardly, Mello hesitates a moment before fetching a bowl of chocolate from the refrigerator, and perching stiffly on the very edge of the seat, as far away as possible from Matt- who glances over and smiles; smiles in the same way Matt always has; with his big, reassuring eyes and the shy curve of his mouth (and Mello almost thinks that things are no different, or that maybe that that smile is a little nice); before Matt once again locks his eyes on the game.

Mello has all of three seconds to become exasperated at Matt for ignoring him before he finds himself smothered by the ginger's shirt in some sort of ... gay death-embrace... his chocolate becomes airborne as he flails for freedom. It's a hug, he realises shortly. A hug from a gay man. Who is gay.

"AUGH! Oh... Oh my GOD! Stop! Ack- stop it! Fuck you!"

"You'd _love_ that" Matt chuckles, before releasing him.

"Wait. No! I didn't- I didn't mean... I...I... AUGH!"

It appears Matt decides he's close enough to tears to be left alone for the time being. "Look, I'm sorry" he chuckles, "Is there anything you want to ask? If it'll make you more comfortable- and prove to you that I'm still the same person..."

"Well, I do have... one question..." Mello considers, nervously.

"Okay, shoot."

"...Do you...have a gaydar?"

"Are you serious?" if Matt's eyebrows rose any higher, they'd disappear.

"Yes."

"No!"

"But... how- how do your people-"

"Oh, my god!"

"- find each other?" Mello asks concernedly.

"When we're single, we travel the world clad in nothing but rainbows"

Mello nods his understanding, "But where's your rainbow? I've snooped through your room..."

"A comforting thought"

"It's how I found the... the... -"

"Literary material..."

"Yeah- but I didn't see any rainbow clothes..."

"No, it unfurls from my arse when I clap three times." Matt responds, completely straight-faced.

"So... does that mean you're seeing someone, because you don't wear arse-rainbows?"

"No. I'm not seeing anyone." Matt answers quickly, with a listlessness that even Mello doesn't miss.

"But you're not-"

"I'm- ah... unavailable."

"Why?"

"Because I'm hardcore." He says with a wave of his hand and a very deliberate avoidance of eye-contact, "Wanna play MarioKart?"

* * *

Mello lies awake that night, thinking a lot.

Rather, nibbling on chocolate and thinking a little.

Regardless of the amount, his thinking leads him to the idea that for Matt, being "unavailable" must be very lonely. He is a nineteen year old man-boy after all; and everyone needs affection.

(Except for Mello, that is. Mello needs no one).

(He does enjoy the occasional, erm, "hug", however. )

And he wonders when Matt's last "hug" was, if ever. Mello finds himself concerned at the thought that he may have never had a "hug". As a result, he finds himself concerned that he is concerned about that. And doubly concerned that he feels... slightly sorry for Matt.

He then, in an epiphany that leaves his hands gripping the sides of his face, and his mouth in a massive, shocked, almost cartoonish gape that leaves him looking somewhat like The Scream, realizes that he actually _cares_ about Matt.

And if he _cares_ about Matt...

That means, on some level...

He _loves_ Matt.

It's then that something else hits him.

Matt: dear, hapless Matt, has always been there; through thick and thin. He waited five years just to see Mello's sorry face again. Matt took Mello, Mello's baggage, and Mello's numerous disasters in with open arms. He never asks questions, but he'll always be there for those days when the weight of always, _always_ being second, and the fears that his job entails become too much, and Matt is there with a block of chocolate and an awkward man-hug and a tactful manner of half-ignoring, half-drying Mello's tears; even though he's never once so much as heard the words "thank you" cross Mello's lips.

Matt loves him, too.

* * *

Somewhere in Japan, a young police officer by the name of Matsuda Touta awakens to the sound of a distant, high-pitched scream.

He dismisses it as Light having one of his "moments", and promptly falls back asleep.

* * *

**[1] Guess which loathsome series this dialogue is from? **

**There you have it, folks. Part one of a fabulous twoshot I've been working on for several months. **

**I haven't posted all that much, I know. I have fits of inspiration; and they're not coming to me at the moment. Whine, whine, whine... etc; etc; Too much work to do... friends, problems, love life, etc; etc; etc;**

Although facts about my life: the above sentence was complete rubbish. Honestly? I'm just lazy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Special Author's Note at the end.**

* * *

"The _fuck_ is wrong with you?!"

Mello ceases his terror-laced wails for a heartbeat in order to cry out, "Matt? No! Stay away!" and flail his arms wildly.

"What's wrong now?" Matt slaps a hand over his eyes; thinking that maybe if he cannot _see_ his best friend: Mello's answer wouldn't _sound_ as absurdly ridiculous. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I... I-..." Matt removes his hand from his eyes, and faces a greatly distressed Mello, gawking at him as though he is an entirely new species of insect. The look says 'I can't really say what I want to say; because you'll hate me. Bad things will happen, and I'll die old and alone with forty thousand cats'.

He knows that look too well.

He also knows Mello is a braver soul than he; and he isn't all too surprised when the blond reaches up and kisses him. Admittedly, he thought that Mello would have been a lot more forceful, but Mello, he figures, probably doesn't know what the Hell is going on either. Mello's lips are chapped and weirdly undemanding; and in all his confusion, Matt is allowed a millisecond of bliss before Reason catches up to him and he pushes away with a shout.

"Mello, no! Bad Mello! Icky! Y- you don't... you just... no!" Mello swallows as he's shoved back. For the first time since they were children: Matt is treated to Mello's 'adorable, kicked puppy' expression; an expression which is nothing if not intimidating; because Mello misses the 'adorable' part and hits 'slightly deranged' instead. "Mello. Stop it (please). Don't... I... Ah, Jeez. Don't do this."

"Um..." Mello's voice is high and thin, somewhere in that place between panic and despair, and Matt finds himself suddenly frustrated.

"I- Oh, jeez. I hate you. I _really_ hate you, sometimes. It took me all this time to get over you; and to live with just what we have, you know? I got no recognition, barely a _friendship_ to hold on to... but it was- it was- _I_ was okay..."

He pauses, and tears off his goggles, running both hands through his hair, and folding his arms behind his head, in pure frustration, "I was okay, because you were there- and it was- it was _okay_. I dealt. I was done waiting... I was fine. And now you've gone and done this." He chokes, "Fuck... no. Just... _no_."

"Matt... I-" Mello is hushed mid-sentence by the sound of Matt's fist slamming into the wall. He assumes Matt meant to make some sort of intimidating impact, but it fails dismally as he whimpers suddenly, and grabs his own hand in pain. Despite the situation, Mello looks as though he's tempted to laugh.

Matt grimaces, secretly finding it hard not to chuckle, too, "Out." He huffs, instead of laughing.

"What?"

He gestures to the door. "Get out."

"Don't you fucking tell me to get out! _You_ get the fuck out!" Mello shouts; always fiery, always at the wrong place, and a completely inappropriate time.

Matt's eyes lock on his; bright, friendly eyes, so rarely seen, and now clouded with anger, and something defeated, and a little past despairing. Mello has never noticed the dark lines surrounding them before, never noticed how tired Matt is. Matt's voice is low and dangerous when he says, firmly, "I need you to go, now. I'll call you. Just get out."

Mello knows when to quit, nods and heads for the door; closing it just before he hears Matt drop to the floor with a sob.

* * *

"Shit... shit shit shit shit damn fuck _shit_!" once a good three blocks away from the apartment, where he thinks he can maybe no longer hear the sound of Matt's sob ringing through his head; Mello, feeling lost, alone, and beyond confused, catches his reflection in a shop window, and mouths 'I hate you', as though it will understand and fix something. _Anything_.

He fails to notice the bemused shopkeeper on the other side of the glass, scratching his head. 'You're an idiot' he mouths to himself; and his reflection raises its middle finger to him with a frown, leaving Mello with the impression that he no longer has any control over his body. He cries out in fear and backs away, knocking his head into a pole. The shopkeeper walks away; shaking his head, but all Mello sees is his own reflection mouthing something about 'drugs'...

Maybe he did get his hands on Matt's 'special' cigarettes after all...

Mello wonders if, maybe, he got his facts wrong. Maybe Matt is really just his best friend. His hilariously funny and devoted best friend, who, regardless of what Mello did, what Mello said, has always been there for him with a bar of chocolate; the beeping of one game or another; and some well-timed, sarcastic remark.

"Yup" Mello declares to himself, "Just my best friend; best friend with the ridiculous goggles and the stupid, bleeping computer games and the laziness, and the stripy shirt, and the off-key singing and the tiny apartment, and the big, friendly eyes and the shy smile and the loyalty and the contagious laugh, and the great sense of humour and the- and... the-"

The only person who has ever put up with him.

"And- and... the really nice arse..." because, really, the previous statement is too corny to say aloud. After this, Mello stops walking to stare absently at his feet, and, more importantly: his really great shoes. This is all too confusing, and he feels as though he should really take the time to sit down, and sort it all out; reassess who he is, what he wants, and why...

"Ah, fuck it. I need a drink." He decides, and marches towards the nearest bar, failing to notice his cell phone dropping to the pavement.

* * *

"Who the Hell is _this_ guy?!" Hal cries despairingly, glancing between the man who has first spoken, and Roger, "What does any of this have to do with _Kira_?"

Gevanni, on the other hand, knows better than to speak, and chooses to stay silent. No reasoning, or explanation will come from Near when he is... plotting. It is the Wammy's house Way, after all, the Wammy's House, Just-Do-As-I-Say-And-Bask-In-My-Glorious-Arrogance Way.

As can be expected; Near automatically blows a raspberry in Hal's direction, and leaves it at that. "Just some tracking to be done; we'd be very grateful for your assistance, mister Aizawa." He says.

"Of course; I'm only too happy to help if it means we'll catch Kira sooner. What do I need to do?"

"Okay... um, here's where things get... kind of awkward..."

"What are you talking about?"

* * *

The first bar is dingy, overcrowded; and the perfume of the building is vaguely that of urine, with a slight hint of death. Mello takes one step inside, spots some of the onlookers from his episode earlier that day, and immediately whirls out once more. Not right.

Apocalyptically, depending on how one is to look at it, he's not in the mood for trouble.

"Too harsh." He says, wrinkling his nose.

The second bar is not, in fact, what he would define as a bar, but a family-friendly place of gathering that happens to sell alcohol. Toddlers gather at his feet, point, and say 'Who is the strange man, mama?' repeatedly as he gazes appraisingly around; and eventually retreats out the door.

"Too soft." He says, rolling his eyes.

He walks a few more blocks, and spots a place. As he steps inside, he declares, with a satisfied smile, "Just right."

* * *

"Near."

"_Matt_... We haven't spoken in _years_. How _are_ you?" his voice is innocent, drawn-out, too genuine and utterly, utterly facetious.

"What have you _done_?!" Matt bellows into the receiver.

"Lately? Worked on the Kira case. Specifically this afternoon? Maybe, gotten you laid?"

"Think again, Casper." Matt hisses.

"Set a pseudo-homophobic lunatic loose in your home?" he ventures.

"Getting warmer"

"Given Mello an epiphany about his own sexuality that led to him trying to sleep with you barely a few months-"

"Try weeks."

"-weeks after you'd told yourself that you were fine with Just Friends?"

"And?"

"And you kicked him out?"

"And?"

"And I can have him now?"

"Is that your _final_ answer?"

"So I can't have him..." Near sighs.

"Because..."

"Because you just realised that you made a mistake."

"Bingo."

He hears a decidedly dramatic sniff on the other end of the line, which is followed by "Stephen! Our baby is all grown up!" This earns a half-cheer, half-laugh from 'Stephen'. "But he won't share..."

"Dawwww" says 'Stephen'

"Not funny, man. I can't find him, now."

"What're you going to do when you _do_ find him? Are you gonna hold him? Kiss him? _Love_ him?" and Matt can practically hear Near's eyebrows waggling through the phone.

"_Near_!"

"Oh, fine." Matt picks up a hint of Near's childhood accent when he says this, and it's frighteningly cockney, "I'll see what I can do. When did you become such a fun-wrecker?"

"When I kicked my lunatic best friend-"

"Your lunatic _lover_..."

"- out of the house, and realised he's probably wandering the streets, trying to find that Priest and choke him with a deck of cards again."

"He _didn't_! Man, I knew I was in line to become L, but that's just absurd... I am one _powerful_ kid..." Near mutters to himself.

"Whatever... just get someone to help me, okay?"

"I think I know just the person... You're really ungrateful, you know."

"Eh?"

"I made a sacrifice, you know. I could have had him; but no..."

"Near, he hates you. We've been through this. Hate does not equal attraction."

"Maybe not in your reality. Hang on a second."

"...Right."

"What's that?" Near calls, his voice distant from the phone, "Oh, Right. Hal! I said no fucking sugar! Oh, okay...Yep" Matt raises his eyebrows as Near's voice is once again close to the phone "Gevanni's made a call. Good luck. I'll call you if my man finds him first."

Matt nods, before realising that, while just about all-powerful; Near probably can't see him. "Ta." He says.

"No need to thank me. Just send me a copy of your sex tape." Near replies, Matt neglects to respond, pockets his mobile, and shuffles out the door.

* * *

The bar is intended to be retro. Retro in a dingy, tacky, attempt at the 1950's sort of manner. The lights bounce off the grimy windows in the most unappealing fashion; and Mello certainly wouldn't have put up that shade of green on the walls. But, lo, it contains alcohol, and is therefore an adequate resting place. He eyes the beer he's holding with a certain disdain. As though it is the amber liquid's fault that all this is happening, though he can't remember touching a drop in days.

He'll have to, he realises, find another place to stay now that Matt has kicked him out. He runs through a mental list of those who might be willing to live with him; or near him at all.

The list consists of Near and Hal.

This list shortens by two when he reduces it to the number of people who won't try to feel him up.

Mello breathes out a most tragic sigh; "Fuckitty fuck fuck..." he huffs to his beer. He has been sitting in the same position for an hour, and nothing has changed for the better.

"Now, my brotha-from-anotha-motha there ain't no need for that kinda talkin' up in here! I might have ta mess you up good if I'm hearin' those nasty-ass words resonatin' through mah skull again!" the beer says with a deep laugh. Followed by a second voice which exclaims. "Watch your language, young man, or I'll wash your mouth out with soap!"

"Great; the beer's talking..." Mello sighs to himself, "Matt would know how to deal with a schizophrenic pint..."

"You one o' those crazy cats?"

"Are you aware that you're a little on the unstable side?"

"Yes, Talking Beer, I am. I think I'm kind of... lovestruck..." he confesses, "But... but I fucked it all up..." he sighs forlornly again; and asks "Is it okay if I drink from you?"

"Man, you ain't right. You might wanna rotate yourself on that here chair one-hundred-and eighty degrees. I ain't no beverage."

"Beer can't talk, you lunatic. Turn around."

Mello obliges cautiously, and finds himself face-to-face with a Japanese man sporting a spectacular afro; and a rather annoyed-looking Roger.

"Oh, hi there!"

The man with the afro rolls his eyes; "Some albino dawgs be callin' for the Great Aizawa, and I am here to listen to y'all and get rid of all your troubles."

Mello stares, "My name is Aizawa, I'm working with Near." Roger offers by way of explanation. "What's the problem?"

"I... I just fell in love with someone. I mean... I think I did. They're... really something special... and I'd do anything for them- but... but it's another _guy_, and my best friend- and it'll-" Mello's gaze returns to his drink, and he mumbles, "It'll be really awkward, now. Because I can't stop thinking about him and he knows it, and I don't know what I'll do-"

"Say no more!"Aizawa claps Mello on the shoulder so hard he sinks into his chair by a good inch with a startled yelp. "My funky sistah, I dig ya...- and I dig that this ain't no easy Sunday, you gettin' me? But this shit-cloud will eventually float away. Ya'll just gotta wait."

Roger places a gentle hand on his other shoulder, and says, "My friend, I understand your troubles, and that you are in a time of great distress; but I assure you, as with all things, this will pass."

"So... does this make me, like, gay?" Mello asks earnestly

"I can tell you, right now, my brother from another mother, you are one of those fine-ass, lady-lovin' motherfuckers!" Aizawa laughs heartily.

"I give you my word; you seem like quite the heterosexual."

"Gee, thanks. That's a huge relief. But what about..."

"Not that there ain't nothin' wrong with a little man-lovin' in this day and age, it's all cool." Aizawa adds with a wink.

"However, you must remember that the straightest man in the world could fall for that one, special chap." Mello nods in response, and raises his drink to his lips.

"Y'all know what I'm sayin'?"

"I, myself, have engaged in homosexual foreplay on numerous occasions."

"Excuse me?! That ain't what I said, old man!"

Roger nods curtly to Mello, "Sorry, must dash. It was positively spiffing to see you! Later, motherfuckers!"

Mello promptly chokes on his drink, "Um... farewell."

"No, wait a second! Hey, man, hey! Come on! That ain't playin' fair! You can't just go around telling people that sort of punk-ass lies about me! I am _talking_ to you!"

With that, Aizawa and Roger fade into the noisy crowd, and Mello has reached a decision. With a determined grimace, he turns around, ready to set back home.

And smacks straight into a startled Matt in the doorway. Both of them right themselves, blinking in surprise; though Matt' surprise looks more like irritation; and stand, facing one another.

There is a good five-to-six minutes of Extremely Awkward Silence; before Mello, eyes firmly locked on his feet, mumbles; "So... I'm an idiot."

"So you are..."

The Awkward Silence continues for another minute before Mello realises Matt hasn't hit him, or yelled, or anything, really. Knowing Matt as well as he does, he can deduce that this either means that Mello has been forgiven for his idiocy; or Matt is a whole new, special kind of angry. A kind of angry that only Matt could be with Mello; the kind of angry they used to express back at Wammy's house, with silent treatments that could go for days-followed by bursts of shouting... and violence.

Someone had always ended up in hospital.

"Can you just... I don't know... punch me , or something; and we'll forget this ever happened?" Mello ventures slowly.

Matt appears startled, and takes a step back, uncertainty and worry flit across his features; but they are quickly replaced by a gentle amusement. "I'm not mad." He says with a smile. "And I was... kind of an arsehole..." he admits sheepishly.

"So you were." Mello concedes, but it's without much heat. Because, really, Mello's general existence more often than not warrants arsehole behaviour from a painfully patient best friend.

"I didn't mean to freak you out, or..."

"Hey, Matt... who snogged whom?" he interrupts with a grimace. "I'm kinda...sorry about that, I guess."

"Yeah. But I... I dunno, man. I kinda... I mean... Um-"

"Yeah, man... I kinda... Um... I mean." Mello stammers, and then abruptly changes the subject, "It'd- It'd kinda suck if you, like, died on me or something..." Mello blurts out. He shuffles his feet as they both stare at the floor.

Matt scratches the back of his head, eyes roaming over his shoes, the ceiling, the walls, the bar... _anywhere_ but Mello. "Yeah! Same here. Like, it would be really crap... if we, you know, stopped talking or something..."

"So we should, like, talk to each other more... or something..."

"Yeah... 'cause... 'cause it's kinda... it's kinda cool... talking to you..." Matt coughs into his hand, with a shifty glance at Mello. "'Cause, like... I love you, man... or...whatever..." he adds in a mumble.

"Yeah... me- me... too... or... whatever..."

And with that, Mello nods curtly; completely unsure of what had just happened, he takes a step forward and wraps his arms awkwardly around Matt's shoulders. Matt stands perfectly still for a full minute, before stepping back, and nodding in return. "So... you love me."

"Agreed."

"And I love you."

"There's no need to make this sound so _gay. _God!"

Matt grins, and Mello finally musters up the courage to admit to himself that it is, in fact, a nice smile; a cute face; a great backside; and, a love he couldn't possibly find anywhere else because few else would know how to handle him.

And when Mello kisses him this time, Matt doesn't push away; and he finds himself so deliriously happy that he can almost ignore the sounds of Near's heavy breathing outside the window...

**END**

**

* * *

**

I must now address the matter of Aizawa's OOCness:

**Was it,  
a) Near's doing  
**** b) A product of Mello's drinking, and aversion to afros, OR  
**** c) The strange love-child of an incredibly strange inside-joke that involved Aizawa saying the phrase 'like a motherfucker', based on his image in the second Death Note opening, wherein he wears aviator sunglasses, and looks generally badass?**

**I know which answer my therapist wants to hear.**

**

* * *

****Special thanks to all reviewers/favouriters/watchers; to Ebonny, for listening to me prattle on about this fic for months (I have no doubt a few people never expected it to see the light of day); to Maddie, for encouraging me enough to inspire me to complete the second half in less than a day;**

**and especially to Sarah, who, gorgeously, refrained from beating the crap out of me as I annoyingly sent her paragraph after paragraph of this story, without asking if she'd like to read it first. Not to sound, you know, **_**gay, **_**or anything but... I like... love you, man... or whatever...**


End file.
